Page 129 of Sexting the Billionaire

Roman's hand settles at the small of my back, a gesture of pride. "Next month. Cassie's Japanese-inspired pieces have developed a cult following there."

I lean into him slightly. "It's a joint venture. Kade-Monroe International is handling the business side."

The company we formed together two years ago has become a perfect synthesis of our talents—his business acumen and my creative vision creating something neither of us could have built alone. What began as my small design studio has blossomed into a fashion empire with sustainable practices and ethical manufacturing at its core.

"Quite the power couple," Camden observes without bitterness. "Who would have thought?"

"Not me," I admit. "But I'm grateful every day that it worked out this way."

As Camden and Arielle move on, I spot Margo, Roman’s aunt approaching, Harmony in her arms. The relationship between Roman’s aunt and me had been glacial at first, but Harmony proved to be the perfect thawing agent. Now, while we'd never be best friends, we've developed a mutual respect.

"Your daughter is demanding her parents," Margot says, handing over a sleepy-eyed Harmony. "Congratulations, both of you. The ceremony was lovely."

"Thank you, Aunt Margot," Roman says, taking Harmony from her. Our daughter immediately lays her head on his shoulder, her eyes heavy.

"She's about done for the evening," I note, checking my watch. "The nanny should be upstairs."

Roman kisses Harmony's forehead. "I'll take her up. Be right back."

As he walks away with our daughter, Margot watches him with a softer expression than I've ever seen on her face.

"You know," she says quietly, "I've never seen him as happy as he is with you and Harmony. He didn’t always have a great example of marriage.”.

The admission surprises me. “His parents were married for a long time."

"Being married and having a marriage worth emulating are different things," she replies,

"You two have built something real. Something worth fighting for."

Before I can respond to this unprecedented openness, my phone buzzes in the hidden pocket of my dress. I excuse myself and check the screen, expecting a message from the caterer.

Instead, it's from Roman:

Save a dance for me, Mrs. Kade. And later, I'm going to peel that gorgeous dress off you with my teeth.

Heat floods my cheeks as I look up, finding him watching me from across the room, Harmony now safely with the nanny. He raises his champagne glass in a toast, his eyes promising everything his text suggested and more.

I text back:

Promises, promises. Put your money where your mouth is, Mr. Kade-Monroe.

His grin turns wolfish as he reads my response. Another text arrives immediately:

I plan to put my mouth in many places tonight. Starting with that sweet spot between your thighs—right where you always go soft for me. Then your neck. Your breasts. Your fingers if they’re clenched in my hair like they should be. And when you’re wrecked and begging, I’ll start over. Mrs. Kade, I hope you cleared your schedule.

"What has you blushing like that?" Olivia interrupts, appearing at my side. "Wait, are you and Roman texting each other at your own wedding reception?"

I lock my screen quickly. "Maybe."

She rolls her eyes. "You two are ridiculous. And perfect for each other. Now come on, it's time for your first dance."

The night passes in a blur of dancing, toasts, and laughter. Roman’s father twirls me around the dance floor with surprising grace. He then gives a toast that manages to be both intimidating and oddly touching. Mia catches the bouquet and immediately throws a panicked look at her boyfriend.

Through it all, Roman is my constant, his hand finding mine between moments, his eyes seeking me across the room. And always, the buzzing of my phone with messages alternating between sweetly romantic and scandalously explicit.

Roman:

You looked so fucking good walking down that aisle, I almost dragged you into a side room and made you say “I do” with my cock still inside you. Tonight, I’m going to strip that dress off inch by inch, ruin that new lingerie you picked out, and spend hours making sure you never forget who you belong to. Mrs. Kade, prepare to be worshipped.

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